


Gabriel Scab reconstructs a body using the contents of a small black case

by Karma77



Category: Original Work
Genre: Blood and Gore, Gen, Magic, Necromancy, Undead, Wizards, Zombies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-07-14
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:14:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25265176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Karma77/pseuds/Karma77
Summary: ScabberNoun1. A defiler of graves or corpses, especially a grave robber2. A person who studies topics forbidden by The Church, especially relating to death3. (Informal) Someone who has descended from a Scabber, and who's family has been branded with the family name Scab





	Gabriel Scab reconstructs a body using the contents of a small black case

The muleskinner called a name, an incredulous tone to his voice, as he peeked his head through the cloth cover cloaking the wagon.

The wagon interior was so constructed that two elongated wooden planks could be fitted into its walls, serving as seating for around six men. Only four occupied them, though space was far from ample despite that. A gaunt figure looked up from the back of the wagon’s interior at that name’s call. His skin faint as if drained of blood and form obscured under cloak. He nodded to the muleskinner as his back straightened.

“That would be me.” He spoke, responding to the call of the false name he had given. ‘Gabriel Scab’ would be too famous a name to give, even out here. He began to reach for something tucked very tightly into the corner of the wagon but stopped once the driver spoke again.

“Uh, could you look at this?”

Shooting the muleskinner a glance, Gabriel placed whatever he had been reaching for into his cloak. He looked across at the others in the wagon before climbing towards the front. The driver was an old sort, a few faded cuts across him. In Gabriel's mind, that marked him as an exchurch official; out here, anyone who was in enough danger to get marks like that wouldn’t live to grow old. Must’ve been that age that put him out of front line service. Must’ve been why he was in charge of caravans carrying nobodies through nowhere; they needed work to give an old man like him.

Still, Gabriel could see a younger man in that face. He could picture that teamster decades ago, travelling around townships in Church territory, collecting tithes and preaching law. Standing over those walls, so high and mighty they were. They had to be, so that they could keep the things that go bump out. Gabriel wasn’t welcome in those places, nor did he wish to be. The driver handed him a scrap of parchment.

“... Yes?” Gabriel said as he looked up from the scraps; they were directions he had penned only the night before.

“Well, according to this, we should be right where you wanted to go. Did we take a wrong turn?” He gestured, and Gabriel turned to look out over the landscape beyond the wagon’s tarp. 

Gabriel saw roughly the same landscape he had seen when he looked out over an hour ago. And the hour before that. And the hour before that. A damp mud plain sparsely populated by husks of trees and grim vegetation. Overcast clouds the only weather pattern sans occasional drizzle. Nothing particularly uncharacteristic of the outlands. Besides a single abandoned house. Not a house. A stone shelter with wooden struts filling windows. Decrepit, what it was and always had been. Even then these sorts of houses weren’t extremely uncommon out here.

“This is the place. Thank you.” Gabriel muttered quietly as he nonchalantly climbed off the wagon. His boots did not squelch or splatter the mud they touched; it bore weight like viscous ooze.

The driver looked at him with confusion for a moment. Who would want to stop here? Why? He gazed over to the coin purse kept tightly at his side. The prepayment he had received from Gabriel, quite a pretty penny he was seemingly unphased to give away. The muleskinner faced forward, towards the mules and in short order they began to trod away. By the time the wagon’s creaking wheels had begun rolling, Gabriel was out of sight, inside his old family home.

Fond memories can only tint so much. It really was a dingy ruin of a place and time had only made it worse. The stone floor tiling had been stripped away by ravenous vegetation. The struts holding the structure’s form had bent out of shape. The interior furniture had become even more worn. He only came here once or twice a year at most and every time it looked just a bit more rotten. He didn’t care despite it being his family home, though; this was only the very surface level.

Creeping down near a back corner of the house, Gabriel spoke a few very particular words, in a few very particular ways, with very particular pausing. He’d done it many times before; and like every time he’d done it right, there was a slight rumble of the earth beneath his feet. Once it calmed, the small stone trap door beneath the mud slid away. A gentle glowing blue was cast over Gabriel’s unperturbed face, revealing some color in his skin that had returned upon seeing it.

Gabriel pulled off his cloak to reveal leather trousers and a brown cloth shirt. He folded it under his arm as he descended the ladder beneath the trap door; he wasn’t afraid of dirtying the more formal attire he wore beneath it now that he was out of the mud of the wastelands. Idly he pressed a finger to the now smooth stone walls that surrounded him. Within seconds the slab above closed shut. That trap door had been one of his first applications of magic, and one he modified frequently. Normally he’d move onto bigger and better projects rather than toil on old ones, keeping all his creations whenever he could; but this was a case where practicality overtook sentiment.

At first, all the door did was open at the pulling of a lever, and close at another. But eventually he made it require a spoken component so that only people who knew the words could open it. Then he made that spoken component require very specific annunciation and pausing, so even people who knew the words would need to know how to say it. Then removed the rather auspicious above-ground lever in an otherwise abandoned looking house. Even added Disguise Magic nodes later on. Not especially good ones, but who was going to Advanced Detect Magic in a specific corner of an abandoned house among dozens of other abandoned houses in the middle of nowhere?

His boots touched the cold floor of the laboratory, the candles mounted on the walls lightning with a blue flame as he did so. It was a long stretch of corridors, with passageways leading into small rooms each with a different, vital purpose. In one room, many barrels filled with scrolls on construction of machinery from simple and crude to thaumaturgic enabled and highly advanced. In another, hundreds of books on most any topic. Most of this was fairly par for the course as far as a mage’s laboratory; nothing in comparison to his primary lab. That was days to the east, and too close to church territory for his current situation. The old family one would do for now - even if it was just a simple wizard lab, rather than his refined profession.

Gabriel stopped as he reached the end of one of the winding corridors. He met not a stone wall, or another passage even deeper into the labyrinthine structure of the place, but instead a solid metal door. He pushed it open and stepped inside; what he saw sparked many a memory. A large chamber of grey and brown stone, only lit by the wall mounted candles that weakly flickered on as Gabriel stepped inside. They cast a dim yellow glow on the room unlike their cooler blue ones behind the door. Clearly, this was no stockpile of texts and trinkets.

It was reminiscent of a cell block, and would have stretched two storeys up had it been constructed outside. It was easily wide enough to fit six men standing shoulder-to-shoulder. The walls were carved into small cells, two stacked on top of each other each row, complete with metal bars. They were empty now. They had been for many years.

The chamber was also very long, despite the relatively compact design of the cells. It took Gabriel around a minute to reach the stone wall at the end of the chamber. Before it was constructed a flat stone table, reminiscent of an altar, and many implements of varying size and complexity. Lenses, gear based pulleys, tall rods of unclear purpose. He’d once marveled at them, but could see their imperfections now that he was mature. He didn’t need them for what he was about to do, anyway.

Gabriel reached into his shirt, and from it pulled what he had stored away in his cloak minutes before. A black wooden case that was kept tightly shut by two metal latches and a single lock. Pulling out a silver key, he placed the case on the stone floor before the altar and slid the key into place. Opening the case revealed it was divided into several compartments, incredibly neatly organized based upon some clearly quite complicated system. He plucked a few scrolls and a small jar from it before gently closing the case and placing it aside.

Gabriel held the jar in his hands. It was sealed extremely tightly and filled with water. Floating inside of the water was a pure white slime of some sort, flittering through the water aimlessly with the flow surrounding it. He placed it down gently before looking over to the case again then over to the scrolls he’d pulled from it; he didn’t need more. He took one of the scrolls and placed it down on the stone table’s top, breaking it’s seal before rolling it out flat across the surface. Pausing, he took a breath, tapping part of the indecipherable scrawls of ink that covered the parchment.

Suddenly, a dark gas began to rise from where the ink had been struck across the scroll. It swelled, becoming a trail that stretched across the parchment, quickly lengthening to flow down the sides of the altar. Within seconds it had bloated to a plume half a man in height before it suddenly burst outward, rapidly dissipating to reveal the scroll missing and what had appeared in its place. A rather gruesome, clearly dead male form. Gabriel was unphased and continued to work.

He rolled out the other scrolls quickly so as not to expose the corpse to the dungeons’ stale air for too long; this was no place to preserve a body. He was right in his assumption, having looked over the body now; He had all the scrolls out that he needed. A few taps of his finger on each were all that was necessary. Just a spark of his energy to execute the orders contained on them. A simple summoning scroll, bringing predesignated items he’d enchanted and stored elsewhere to wherever the runes were activated. Single use, but he could always make more scrolls later. 

What they summoned was none too pleasant; Leather, skin, meat, muscle, other such things. Gabriel looked them over and saw that he had everything he should need. Tapping one final scroll, his tools appeared; a lancet of tempered steel, some upholstery needles, various bone setting implements, cloth and string. Simple tools for simple work. And work he did; for the following hour or so, he properly treated the body for the damage it had received both in life and after death. He stitched, he sutured, he did what he had been doing for most of his life; he crafted. It was dirty and unpleasant work, especially given the conditions, but it was necessary work.

Finally, after applying many dozens of sutures and even fully replacing parts, he’d done most that medical expertise could do. He had a cleaned and treated body that was fully intact even if it did look somewhat mismatched in places. This is where his other expertise came into play. Reaching for the jar he had set aside, he held it in his hands once again, gazing at the white thing inside of it one final time. Placing it on the edge of the altar, he tapped it on the tip of its lid causing most of the invisible seals binding what was contained inside of it to fade. Opening the lid he reached in and grabbed the soul, ripping it out and holding it with an experienced technique.

Gabriel slapped his hand flat against the corpse’s chest. The soul stretched and whipped around as it was so suddenly moved. He drew his hand back and watched as the slimy thing stuck to the flesh. It sank into the body as the alabaster glow it emitted faded from the chamber. There was a deadly silence as Gabriel stood over the body. All was still.

There was a loud gasp as the body shot up, using its newly treated arms to support itself. Its lungs took in air for the first time in their new body, rapidly and unsteadily. It’s heart beat again, starting at a rapid pace as it got what blood it had been provided to flow through unfamiliar parts. It’s eyes opened once again, blurry and stiff as they tried to adjust. Gabriel gave the body a cold look as he noted the body’s operation to himself; nothing unexpected. 

After a few seconds the body threw its head back. It was expecting hair to whip back against its neck, despite the fact it’s scalp was completely bald. A rough start but it’s breathing slowed and it’s heart began to regulate. It paused once again, keeping it’s breathing as steady as it could as it got used to it’s parts both new and old. After what must have been a minute of silence, it had calmed enough to look over at Gabriel, who was still by the altar looking it over. It started to speak, but practically choked on the air that flowed through its throat.

“Take your time.” Gabriel muttered in a way that certainly wasn’t comforting.

There was a brief pause as the thing tried to get used to using its voice. It experimented with many sounds and inflections as it’s body settled. Finally, it managed to get a word out.

“Gabriel?” It groaned finally before letting out what was close to a relieved sigh.

“Mikaeus.” Gabriel responded in a deadpan tone. The body scowled at him.

“Ya… Yea. First thing you do… when I’m… when I’m back. You snark off.” The body replied, recognizing the name; it’s - his - memories were perfectly intact at least.

“Can you get up yet?” Looking over at what little of what he had summoned he had left, Gabriel asked. “Do tell if you rip anything. I’d prefer to put these away as soon as possible.”

After a few attempts, Mikaeus raised his back from the altar. He raised one of his knees and let his elbow rest upon it. He began to work with his new body, moving and stretching various parts both new and old as he adjusted to them. It was an unfortunately familiar sensation to him. He raised his hands palm open before his face. He recoiled.

“Gabriel!” Mikaeus yelled out. Still putting his things back into his case, he was not phased. “Gabriel! You removed the family crest!”

Gabriel looked over his shoulder at Mikaeus, who was giving him an annoyed glance. “I’m afraid I had to replace it. It had become unsuitable for a living man; flesh often does that when it’s dead for several weeks.”

“Weeks? Oh, weeks! Oh...” Burying his head in his hands, Mikaeus sighed. After a moment, he let his hands rest by his side as he looked up around the chamber. “You never did value that, did you? The crest.” He called over to Gabriel. They both knew the answer.

Gabriel slid the black case, now a bit lighter, into his shirt. He stood up and dusted himself off. He pulled down his cuff and presented the palm of his left hand to Mikaeus. The flesh was unmarked.

“I try not to mark myself so obviously. We wouldn’t be here if you did too.”

Mikaeus scoffed as he slowly lifted himself to his feet. It was rough to stand for the first time - again - but soon his mind wrangled his body into position. He’d have to learn to walk, run, and jump properly but that would come in time. Stumbling and slightly off balance, he managed to lumber toward Gabriel until he stopped a few feet behind him.

“Hey, it’s a sentimental thing. You’re too dispassionate; what would mother think?” Mikaeus muttered, rubbing his neck. He felt significantly less agitated now that his body had mostly settled.

Gabriel smiled. “Mother would think you an abomination. You’re an undead necromancer.”

“Ah, well. Can’t say you’re wrong there. She always was a superstitious type...”

“Enchanters are always superstitious.” Gabriel said matter-of-factly as he gestured towards the unused parts he had summoned. They began to turn gaseous and dark, surrounded by a dark fog, then vanished in smoke. Once it cleared there was nothing to be seen.

“You’re hardly a stitcher, but I’m sure you can fix yourself up now if you tear anything.”

They walked up the stairs leading out of the dungeon. Gabriel led as he was more familiar with the paths and with his body while Mikaeus followed behind. As his brother was still getting used to his body, Gabriel was sure to keep a slow pace and stopped through an old clothing room he remembered; scruffy stuff, but it’d stop his brother’s new body from getting infected or cold. They talked and - more often - bickered throughout, debating the values of their respective ‘professions’. Mikaeus stopped and scowled as he rubbed his thigh, having pulled it stepping past a corner.

“Ah! Bloody… ah. I’ll have to do plenty of work on this body later. Very shoddy work y’know? I’d expect an ‘artist’ such as yourself to be cleaner.”

“Please.” Gabriel responded in an unamused tone. “I create great works of art, and a truly great undead can take days, weeks, or months of time to craft. And with far better tools than I had here. From anyone else I’d expect gratitude; unfortunately, this is you we’re talking about.”

Gabriel pushed a door aside and walked through a small room full of many anatomical documents. Mikaeus stopped by the door to rest yet another pulled muscle. Gabriel grabbed a small book and rested back against a wall, flipping through it as he waited for his brother. It was things he already had a good grasp on, as he had long since either surpassed whatever knowledge was contained in this laboratory or had moved it to his own. Still, it brought back memories of childhood. 

His father was far from a necromancer, and his mother ensured anything relating to necromancy was burned, but this lab of his had still captured a young Gabriel’s imagination. So many tendons, bones, muscles and more; imagine what he could do with those. Mikaeus shared a similar interest though he was intrigued by the prospect of a personal army rather than any scientific pursuits.

“Really though. Please don’t reapply that crest; that’s the reason you got caught.” Gabriel muttered, flicking his eyes up from a page regarding humors.

“Ah, I was fine! I was fine!” Mikaeus responded, earning an unimpressed glare from his brother. After a pause he continued.

“How’d you even find me anyways?”

“You are quite lucky I did. I happened to be downstream at the time; it’s the happiest I’ve ever heard someone who was talking about you.” Gabriel looked to the door. “Come on. You’ve had enough time. I have places to be.”

They continued through the lab. Mikaeus had just about figured out his new body by that point and was able to keep up with his brother’s living pace. Gabriel continued explaining.

“I was at the butcher’s shop at the time. You are quite famous, it seems. “The defiler is dead! the defiler is dead!” they cried. They call you that you know?”

“Bah. They call every necromancer a defiler. Wish they’d be a bit more specific.”

“And a good thing it was too. I immediately knew it was you; few deserve such a boring name. I asked of the situation and the peasants were frantic. “No more will the dead plague us!”, as if you were the only necromancer who descended upon towns with hordes of raised.”

“I’m just particularly good at it.” Mikaeus replied, ignoring his brother’s casual slights.

“Yes, yes you are. As I was away from any of my labs at the time, I did not have a stock of undead. But Church towns so small and far out as the one I was in don’t have the appointed clerics to properly bless graves. I raised a small army and attacked the town you had been struck down.”

Gabriel paused, looking over his shoulder at Mikaeus as he rounded the final corner before the ladder to the surface. “A location the peasants had so politely informed me of, mind you.” The two grinned. They stopped in front of the ladder and Mikaeus prepared to climb something for the first time in his new body. Suddenly, Gabriel put a hand on his shoulder, looking at him seriously.

“I ask that you please do not act so careless again.” He spoke with his usual tone and only a slight deviation from his usual expression, but those words somehow had much weight to them.

“... Gabriel, it was just a lucky shot. It was a tiny Church town, who could’ve seen that coming?” He responded with a casual tone.

“Mikaeus. If there had happened to be a cleric or paladin there, they could have easily caged your soul. Even if not they could have stored your body and sent it off to a Church city who did have a cleric or paladin who could do that. Either way, it’d be very difficult for me to get it back then.”

They both stood still. The words settled in the air for a bit, and Mikaeus shook his head with a sigh. They knew they understood one another. Facing forward again, Gabriel began to scale up the ladder, his brother following close behind. Fortunately Mikaeus did not tear anything as his body had now almost completely set. His brother did wonderful work. Just as he always had.

The trap door slid aside and Gabriel crawled out. He stood to full height and looked himself over. It seems it had been raining in the time he had spent down there. He’d gotten dirt on his trousers climbing out. How terrible. Mikaeus climbed out in similar fashion though was much less concerned with the mess that was covering his clothing despite his condition.

“Try not to get too many diseases.” Gabriel spoke offhandedly as he tilted his head towards the large spot of mud that had managed to splash onto his brother’s throat.

“You worry too much. You’ll make yourself sad.” 

“Tuh. Perhaps you’re right. Perhaps you’re right. Although, you are dead, and I am not.”

They stepped out of the old family home, Mikaeus having realized that they were in their father’s lab only a few minutes after he’d awoken. He was a more reminiscent and sentimental type but he gave the old ruins little thought. They were from a more limited time where he could not do everything he wanted to do; He was free now, and he was going to make sure he always would be. They both looked around the muddy wastes surrounding them and breathed in the atmosphere.

“So. This is where we part ways, brother?” He said, pulling up a ragged hood over his hairless scalp to hide his undead appearance.

Gabriel paused at that, giving him a sideways glance. “... No. I do not think it is.”

Mikaeus looked at him inquisitively. Normally they were apart, despite being siblings, working separately as necromancers. One dedicated to the pursuit of art and science, the other dedicated to the pursuit of... whatever he happened to be interested in that day. They occasionally sent each other letters or, occasionally, “gifts”, but other than that rarely interacted. Gabriel walked away from the house and kneeled down next to it, running a finger through the mud.

“There are corpses here. You’re more in tune with bodies than I am; you can feel them, can’t you?” He said as he looked over his shoulder. Mikaeus nodded. It was a necromancer’s gift, to feel where the dead lay. “Also you’re better at raising then I am... if you would be so kind?”

Giving him a questioning look, Mikaeus shrugged. Walking towards his brother, his step far more sure than it was only a few minutes ago, he raised a hand casually. Within moments the mud began to shift. A few more seconds and the dirt began to shake. A gangly hand tore it’s way from the ground. It scratched and forced its way through the earth, it’s movements heavy and violent as it dug itself from the soil on which it had fallen dead many years before. Finally, a rotten upper body and a skull wrapped in tattered flesh pulled itself up. And then another. And then many more.

Soon, a small army of a few dozen undead had risen from the ground, some more worn than others. Those who the wastes had claimed over many centuries of festering abandonment. They stood uncommanded, gathering around the two siblings awaiting their orders. Though Gabriel preferred more structured hordes with more developed undead, there was a certain charm to these most vanilla of ghouls. His brother did wonderful work. Just as he always had.

Gabriel stood to his feet. Approaching the ruins of the house, he gestured to his brother, raising a hand towards the large thatch covering of the house. At least what remained of it as it had been so worn over the years by weather and time.

“Could they pull this down?” He asked. “Preferably larger parts.”

“Uh, well. Of course they can.”

Mikaeus gestured to his horde wordlessly, and some of those near to the ruins lurched towards it. They did quick work, easily reaching up to the low roof and tearing at it, quickly pulling a large few chunks of thatch off of the house. They worked fast, quickly revealing the wooden walls beneath the straw and reeds.

“Excellent. Now, can they tear out a large piece of wood?” Gabriel half yelled to his brother, having to raise his voice over the gnashing and clawing of the undead.

“What are you tryna do? Knock the bloody place down?” Mikaeus finally asked.

“Do you know what a litter is, Mikaeus?”

“... Like a... like a group of children?” Gabriel gave him a deadpan glance. There was a brief pause before Mikaeus’ eyes widened in comprehension. “... Oh. Ooh… I never thought of that.”

“You rarely think of much, do you?” Gabriel smiled.

A few minutes later, Gabriel sat down on top of the wooden platform, tapping it gingerly. His brother was much less considerate, practically throwing himself onto it as the undead below it swayed and stumbled trying to hold it up. This earned a roll-of-the-eyes from Gabriel as he grasped the platform’s side for stability.

“Woo! Woah! Wow! This is great!” shouted Mikaeus as he joyfully slid from side to side.

“I am beginning to regret my decision to tell you to do this.” Gabriel sighed to himself.

“Ah lighten up a bit. I’m having more fun than you and I’m dead!” Mikaeus laughed to himself, coughing as his lungs adjusted.

“You may be needing this for a few days while your body gets fully settled. You’re not in much of a condition to go wandering for days at a time - But please don’t go around this way near Church towns. It’s… far from subtle.”

“Yea, yea.” He waved his hand dismissively. “So I guess you’ll be on your way then? Lots of ‘art’ to do and all that?”

“Actually, no.”

The platform shifted slightly below them as Mikaeus’ command faltered just a bit. What? Was he going to follow him around or something? Seriously? Gabriel thought it fit to clarify.

“You were right earlier. I can’t have you going around in a body like that. You know just about the way to my primary laboratory down east from here, right? We’ll travel there and I’ll give you a more proper look.”

“Oh, you can’t have your little brother going around tarnishing your reputation with a body like this. Wonderful.” Mikaeus chuckled to himself. 

“Please. You know it is not like that.” Gabriel replied, deadpan as ever.

“Yes, yep. I’m fine with it, either way. Tell me if I read the map upside down, alright?”

Mikaeus looked up and lifted a hand, pointing towards the trail which had been carved into the mud by many years of wagons rolling through. Nobody was going to go through a wasteland like this on anything short of a caravan. The group of undead shambled forward, making for an unsteady ride as Mikaeus got used to commanding a horde of undead to lift in unison like this. He caught on quickly, as he always did, and Gabriel was there to provide direction, as he always was.

* * *

A muleskinner sat at the front of his wagon. He had stopped it in a small town to refresh supplies and feed the animals pulling it. He was close to the church’s capital city, and as such the lands were far more forgiving and with many more stops for a caravan like his. Much better than the wastes his father had been assigned to. Though everyone was packed onto the wagon, having paid their gold and given their directions, he still had to wait for his animals to be ready. Just a few more minutes, he assured everyone in the back, as he idly flipped through a local news sheet. Oh dear.

“SCABBERS RETURN!”

“...Gabriel and Mikaeus Scab, two infamous necromancers, have reappeared. The latter of which apparently alive despite earlier reports...”


End file.
